The Second Day
by RunningoffXanaxYank
Summary: Stiles is scared, tormented by nightmares. He keep it to himself, finding comfort in the one person he believed hated him. Derek. STEREK AU pre-relationship?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is inspired by the Tyler/Dylan on a ship video and based upon Stiles and The Sheriff's hug scene. Set somewhere in chaos of everything after 2x04.

Life has been chaotic for Stiles as of late. He's had very little time to relax and even less to talk about that night. He had to lie to his dad about it, the mechanic's death, because there's no way he could tell him about the Kanima. It was the first wedge between them, lying about Derek didn't count because the bag guy died and everyone ended up safe. But the mechanic, that was the biggest lie Stiles ever told, worse than the whole werewolf thing. The worst part is, in between trying to get the bestiary, saving Derek, protecting Lydia and stopping Jackson, Stiles has never had the time to completely register what happened. Scott was more concerned about the Kanima, as he should have been, and frankly Stiles hadn't wanted to talk about any of it. So he didn't, to anybody. When Derek questioned him about the Kanima before they were attacked, Stiles allowed his mind to ignore the thoughts of the mechanic. He forced himself to concentrate on what the Kanima looked like and nothing else. He ignored all lingering thoughts of it all, all day with the help of his Adderall. But medication can't help you fight the demons which enter your dreams. He had nightmares daily or nightly or whatever. He'd wake up screaming silently into his pillow, forcing himself to stay in bed and not crawl over to his dad to cry. He couldn't call Scott because it wasn't right to ruin the only time him and Allison had as of late. And that was it. The two people Stiles relied on for his panic attacks couldn't be there for him. So he just cried himself to sleep and blasted the music on his itouch, pressing his earphones into his ears in an attempt to drown out the voice and the image.

He was walking around the woods, it was night time. His cell long forgotten somewhere, he dragged his feet forward heading somewhere. The sunlight seemed to rise slowly and he wondered where exactly he'd traveled to on his walk. He didn't remember leaving his house or car or anything really. His feet pulled him forward, slowing only when he reached a dirt road. He turned slightly towards the right, a deep voice speaking in between grunts and sighs. He walked towards it, the numbness fluttering out of his heart to be replaced by another feeling Stiles couldn't describe. He approached the man talking on the phone with black shades covering his eyes. As he got closer, he realized who it was. Derek. Normally he would curse himself and try to make a get away or start thinking of something to tell the alpha, but he couldn't. His brain just wasn't working properly and he was desperate for someone to talk to, even if that someone would threaten to rip his throat out. At least he could tell someone how he felt, let himself fall apart in front of someone. He didn't care what Derek would say or do to him, he just needed someone. He needed someone so bad. His body began to shiver as he approached the werewolf, never once questioning why the alpha was there in the first place.

Derek tensed and turned towards him as the teen approached him. Stiles was in too much pain to take caution and pause, he just kept moving towards Derek. The alpha spoke into the phone watching him, the hardened look on his face softening. Stiles reached him, finally, his feet wavering underneath him. He moved his arms out slightly and opened his mouth to ask for something Stiles knew the answer to. Before he could stutter the words out, Derek gave him a slight nod and lifted his other arm up welcoming Stiles to hug him. Tears filled his eyes as Stiles stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around Derek's torso, resting his head against Derek's chest. The werewolf lowered his arm onto Stiles' back and embraced him, still talking into the phone. Stiles pressed himself into Derek, unable to believe that he wasn't dreaming. He had to be. It was the only explanation for the alpha caring so much about him. Derek hated him and made no attempt to hide it. Also, he didn't trust Stiles at all so he wouldn't just let the teen to wonder from the middle of the forest and hug him. It was impossible. But Stiles could feel it, the warmth coming from his body. He could hear the alpha's heartbeat and feel the vibrations of his voice on his chest. It was just too real and Stiles had never held Derek like this so it couldn't just be his imagination. He dug his head into the wolf's chest and inhaled, letting out a shaky breath when his brain confirmed to him that it was indeed Derek's scent.

Derek's hand moved up to Stiles' shoulder and gave him a small squeeze. Stiles leaned into the touch, tears flowing down his face. This was Derek. Derek the guy who threatened him daily and who used him without caring about the danger Stiles would get into by helping him. He showed the teen no emotion, other than anger, and never thanked him or acknowledged the fact that he helped. And yet, Derek the emotionally stunted werewolf alpha with serious issues was comforting Stiles because the teen had no one else. And who the fuck cares if it was out of pity? Stiles doesn't, couldn't care less. He needed someone to hold, someone to feel in order to know that everything was okay. That he wasn't back at the shop paralyzed watching that mechanic begging for help as Stiles' car slowly moved down over his body and crushed him. The phone call ended and Stiles prepared to be pushed away, but he wasn't. Instead he was pulled closer, Derek's arms wrapping him up in a shield of warmth. Stiles buried his head in the alpha's shoulder and let the sobs work their way through his body. Derek leaned his head against Stiles' and held him closer as if their bodies could be crushed together somehow so Derek could absorb Stiles' pain.

The phone rang and Stiles pulled his head out of the safety of Derek's body to look the alpha in the eyes. He didn't have to speak for Derek to know what he was thinking. The wolf threw his phone somewhere off into the forest, far enough away for Stiles to no longer be able to hear it. He watched as it disappeared behind trees before turning back to the werewolf. He was staring at Stiles, eyes filled with a tinge of sadness. His hand came up to wipe a tear away from the teen's face before caressing Stiles' face. Stiles stared into Derek's eyes, waiting for the moment when he would be harshly thrown aside and told never to invade the wolf's privacy again. But it never came. Instead Derek offered him a small smile and pressed a small kiss onto Stiles' forehead. Stiles closed his eyes and concentrated on calming his shaky breath. Derek rubbed his face against Stiles' burying his face in the teen's neck, his stubble leaving behind a reddish burn on Stiles' skin. Stiles held on tightly to the wolf, closing his eyes and listening to Derek's breathing.

"We'll get through this," Derek whispers, "I know because I love you." Those are the exact same words Allison told Stiles to tell Scott. Suddenly, Derek's arms are gone. Stiles snaps his eyes open worriedly. His eyes flicker around him, taking in his surroundings. He's in his room, on his bed, with a pillow held tightly against his chest. His blanket abandoned on the ground. It takes a moment for him to realize it was just a dream. And he knew it was. It had to be. He knew that, but it didn't lessen the pain or compensate for the hole which was shot threw his heart. He threw the pillow to the ground with a grunt as he sat up and ran his hands through his buzz cut hair, dragging them down over his face and tucking them under his chin.

His eyes flickered over to the Adderall on his desk. He'd taken more than enough during the day as it was, taking more would be risky and he wasn't entirely sure it would help him sleep. He stood up and walked over to the bottle and grabbed it, pouring all the pills out onto this palm before sliding them all back in nervously. He sighed and walked downstairs to the kitchen. His father kept a bottle of bourbon there. Alcohol was meant as a relaxant right? Right. Stiles grabbed it and shut himself in the room with the bottle. He stared at it before undoing the cap and taking a large gulp of it. It burned going down his throat but he felt more relaxed. He knew tomorrow he would feel guilt for drinking it and his dad would probably yell at him for having gotten drunk. But Stiles needed it because he was that desperate. And now there were two dreams haunting him. He felt warm and stood, bottle in hand, to open the window. He took another gulp as he pushed it open and leaned his head out. The sky was dark, but soon enough the sun would peak out from over the mountains and everything would be illuminated. He pulled his chair to the window and let his head rest against the cushion on the back as his eyes watched the horizon until the alcohol lulled him into a dreamless state.


	2. Chapter 2

A/n: This was supposed to be one chapter but I'll make it two with a happy ending. Now I am going to start putting quotes at the top because I want to read Crush by Richard Siken and I can't. So I'm quoting him to deal with the sadness.

_You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened.__  
__Your co-workers ask__  
__if everything's okay and you tell them__  
__you're just tired.__  
__And you're trying to smile. And they're trying to smile_.

When he wakes up the next morning, he knows he's alone. It's just engraved into his brain that when he wakes up, his dad is gone. So he sits up in the chair and rubs his neck before taking a swig of the half full bottle in his hand. It helps quench the loneliness, but not much. He stands shakily and caps it, making sure to return the bottle to his father's hiding space. He showers but doesn't bother to scrub that hard knowing full well Scott would still be able to smell the liquor on him. He gets ready to go to school and locks up the house before getting in his car, pills tucked in his pocket for later use. As he starts up his baby, he sets his mind in the right state. Preparing himself to concentrate, prioritize, but mostly concentrate, on everything that's happening. He can't bother to be careless or let himself breakdown because they can't afford to have someone else to worry about. So he slaps himself in order and prepares for a day of avoiding Jackson, legally he has to which is fine because he never really liked the dude in the first place, and some how figuring out how to make the black powder he was given work.

Scott leaves him alone to spread the powder, running off in into some place. He doesn't stutter when Erica tackles him because he can't really think about her that much right now. Thinking about her makes him think about Derek. Derek makes him think about his dream and the Kanima. The Kanima drifts his thoughts slowly towards the night the mechanic died, especially since they know it wasn't actually attacking him. Stiles would have been in the clear to do something, but he was angry and walked outside to take it out on the mechanist when he should have stayed inside. It occurs to him now, that thinking of Jackson doesn't cause the same pattern. His brain has a block and thinks only about who's controlling the beast rather than what it has done. It's not entirely surprising that Derek would spiral him into a series of panic attacks, one look at the guy is more than enough evidence. So when Erica and Isaac pass by him and into the show, he refuses to think of her as anything more than someone who hit him on the head with a car starter. No. He's not going to go there. He pops a pill while running after hurrying himself to finish making the circle. He ran out of powder but somehow it managed to work. The rush that came over him at finally being able to do something substantial to help pushed back the thoughts of his father being fired and his nightmares. When Derek prompts him to break it, disappointment fills his heart only to be lulled by the alpha's hands squeezing his shoulders as he passes Stiles to save Scott.

His fear for his best friend was over powered only by the sadness of the fact that his father was home alone. Derek ensured him that Scott would be fine and to just go home. So Stiles did, but not before making sure Boyd, Erica and Isaac were okay. He knew Isaac had been injured by the Kanima, Erica was favoring her left hip and Boyd just looked terrible in general. Unprepared to face his father, he stumbled into his darken house, every step stabbing at his chest. There was a small light on in the living room. He walked cautiously towards it before his eyes ran over the silhouette of his father lying on the couch, bourbon in hand. He was long passed out and Stiles knew that he had probably waited up for him. Guilt returned with a new ferocious anger aimed directly at Stiles. He snatched the bottle from his father and took a swig out of it before putting it away and placing a blanket over his Dad. Shoulders slumped; he walked up stairs shrugging off his jacket.

He gripped the door knob slowly, closing his eyes fully aware of the nightmares which waited for him on the other side. He cracked the door open and paused before sliding it completely open. He stared at his open window, remembering he'd forgotten to close it in the morning, before stepping into the cooled room to shut it closed. He was midway there before his body froze.

"You okay?" He jumps forward, turning around towards the corner from where the voice erupted. Two blood red eyes stare back at him, disappearing as the silhouette of the wolf stepped into the light shinning in from the window.

"Oh my god!" He sighs, one hand over his heart, "Jesus, can you warn me next time? I know it may seem strange to you but some people aren't used to werewolves popping into their rooms in the middle of the night." He throws his jacket in the general vincinity of his desk without actually trying to see where it lands. "Aren't you supposed to be watching Scott?" His heart stops and stares up at Derek. "Is he?"

Derek steps forwards and shakes his head, "he's fine. It's safer for everyone if only one pack member is receiving refuge from a vet." He steps closer and Stiles lets himself relax, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. When he looks back up, Derek's staring at him intently, a hint of worry in his eyes. "You've been drinking."

"I took a sip of bourbon," Stiles clarifies, "can't really be considered drinking if it was only one drink." He sighs and fumbles around for his chair before kicking off his shoes, worn out.

"Are you okay?" he asks again and Stiles looks up at him, with more anger than he should. It's not Derek's fault all of this is happening, okay not entirely his fault, but Stiles has held it in long enough so he snaps.

"I'm fine," he shakes his head standing, "My friend is a werewolf who got attacked by his secret girlfriend's parents while trying to stop a murdering super abomination of a shape shifter who killed someone right in front of me and has no idea what he is doing because some freak is controlling him." His heart starts beating faster and his breath get's shallower, "Meanwhile the girl I've had a crush on since the third grade is having trouble dealing with the fact that she was attacked by a maniac of werewolf. And on top of that my dad just got fired because having a son like me is apparently not a good image for the county!" The tension leaves his shoulders and he sighs running a worried hand through his hair, "I'm fine. I'm just tired." He looks down at the ground before allowing his eyes to flutter up towards the werewolf. His gaze his locked on something outside and in an instant Stiles tenses ready to fight or run depending on whatever the hell is out there. Derek turns to him, shoulders relaxing.

"When's the last time you slept well?" Stiles opens his mouth, "without drinking." He closes it with a thunk, too tired to think of a clever way around the truth. Derek takes another step forward and Stiles notices the limp in his step. He moves closer to the alpha, hands going instinctively towards the tear in the alpha's shirt. Derek twitches away from him but Stiles manages to lift the shirt to see the bullet wound. It clearly hasn't been treated, Stiles glares up at him.

"You got the other wounds treated why not this one?" Derek pulled his shirt off to reveal burn marks on his skin, the kind you get from tasers.

"I'm fine I can heal, stop changing the subject." Stiles looks at him, he doesn't want to think about it anymore.

"Okay. If you can heal, why haven't you?" He motions at Derek's chest, as it heals slower than usual. Derek raises his eyebrows and Stiles just nods. "It's late Derek. So, what do you want?"

"I can smell you Stiles," Derek moves closer and Stiles suddenly becomes aware of how close his is, "something is wrong. Why haven't you been sleeping?"

"Why do you care?" He tries not to think about anything other than what they're saying but his eyes keep roaming over the body just a few inches away from him. Derek moves closer and Stiles' brain know what it feels like to be this close to him. To feel the heat radiating off his body and to inhale the werewolf's scent with every breath he took.

"Is it obvious by now?" Stiles looks up at him, wide eyed, "pack watches out for each other." He nods slowly because that means he's pack, but for some reason he feels slightly disappointed, as if there was another reason Derek Hale would care about him. It's quiet for far too long and Stiles backs away because he can't really talk about how he feels. Derek grabs his shirt and pulls him into a hug. "If you tell anyone," Stiles closed his eyes feeling Derek's voice vibrate in his chest, "I'll rip your throat out," his voice is softer now. Stiles looks up at him, heart thudding loudly in his chest, and licks his lips before running his bottom lip under his teeth. Derek wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. "With my teeth," he whispers, lips ghosting over Stiles' before pulling away. Stiles let his head rest against Derek's chest, this was what he wanted. Just to be here, where he knew he was safe, a refugee in the alpha's arms. And he's swelled with this outrageous feeling, as if everything is clicking into place and he belongs there. He pulls away and feigns a smile.

"Thanks," he scratches his head and walks over to his bed, hoping that his nightmares will be quenched by the embrace. The bed dips next to him and he turns to see Derek there.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong." Stiles nods and shrugs, lying down because if can't bear to think about how he feels, how is he supposed to talk about it?

"Good night," He lies down and moves his feet up, surprised when Derek refuses to move. He doesn't care though, not really, and maneuvers himself over to the other side of the bed before stretching out his legs. "Close the window on your way out," he mumbles, closing his eyes. A few minutes pass before he manages to relax. The bed dips behind him and he turns, unable to believe that Derek would lie down. And arm is wrapped around his torso and a heat covers his back. He can't turn to see who it is but the bandaged arm lets him know that it is, indeed, the alpha.

"Are you," He puts his hand over the bandages, "spooning me?" He tilts his head back, hitting Derek's in the process. The wolf grunt and repositions his head over Stiles' neck.

"Go to sleep Stiles," he mumbles, as if it's perfectly normal for him to do this, with Stiles. The grip around his waist tightens, when he tries to pull away, "If you still can't sleep with me here," Stiles relaxes to listen, "I promise I will never threaten you again."

"And if I do?" Stiles presses on, trying to get the arm off of him without hurting the alpha.

"You chose," Derek moves his nose into the crook of Stiles' neck, inhaling his scent in a less creepy way that Stiles would have thought possible, "either you tell me why you can't sleep or I get to sleep with you like this every night." There's calmness in his voice which soothes any left over tension in Stiles' body.

"That's a pretty big wager," Stiles stops to think about it, Derek would never risk something unless he thought it would work, "What makes you think having you here will help me sleep?" There's bitterness in his voice for some odd reason, but Derek just ignores it.

"Just a hunch," he mumbles into the teen's neck. Stiles' body shivers, he feels Derek smirk against his skin and immediately wants to push him off and force him to leave. But he doesn't, because deep down inside this is what he wants, what he needs.

"Fine," he mumbles and lets his body recline into Derek's.

He wakes up two hours later, panting and in a sweat. His teeth clamp automatically over his lip, harder than usual, drawing blood. He's trembling, closing his eyes as he muffles his cries. Suddenly there's arms wrapping around him, one slides across his waist as the other covers his chest to rub at his shoulder.

"Stiles," kisses are being pressed against his shoulder, "It's okay," he's being pulled backwards into the body, "I'm here." His head is laid back against a shoulder and he looks up to see his caretaker, Derek. There's fear and helplessness in his eyes, two things which Stiles has never seen in him.

He nods, letting out shaky breaths, "Does this mean I win?" Derek tenses under him, hurt conquering his face for an instant before it's replaced his usual cold stare. He sighs and runs a hand through Stiles' short hair. It gives him something to concentrate on, and his breathing regulates in seconds.

"Yeah," he whispers, "You win." Derek looks down, defeated almost. Stiles takes the opportunity to stare at him. He's shirtless and his wounds are completely gone, but there are bags under his eyes as if he hasn't slept in a while.

"Derek," he whispers, the alpha turns his head slightly to look at the teen. Stiles licks his lips before moving up and pressing his lips against Derek's. When he pulls away, Derek's still in shock, so Stiles opens his mouth, "If I tell you why, will you still sleep with me every night." Derek nods before pulling Stiles closer.

"Every," he kisses Stiles' lips, "Single," his jaw, "Night," his neck. Stiles smiles, genuinely, for the first time in a long time.

"Tomorrow," Stiles rests his head against Derek's shoulder, "I'll tell you everything tomorrow." Derek nods and lays back down, Stiles sprawled across his chest. Stiles makes it through the night without another nightmare.

THE END


End file.
